The yeti and the Elf
by ThatCreepyBastard
Summary: A look into Vasquez and Drake's past and their future. Rated M for bad language, sexual themes and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own these characters or, in any way the Aliens universe, and I certainly don't win anything from this. **

Mark Drake wondered around the juvenile prison's corridors, cursing and kicking at the walls before giving up on his failed attempt to find something fairly interesting to do..

"Fuck you!" He shouted as he showed his middle finger to a near camera and searched is pockets for a lighter. The thing he pulled out was a sad excuse for a cigarette lighter.

Not that bad, having in count he'd find it on the detention center courtyard.

He researched his pockets and pulled out a ball of paper. A letter from his brother, an attempt for him to excuse to his younger brother for not helping him out in the trial that had happen three days before.

"Damn son of a bitch." Drake burst out, while trying to set the paper on fire. He finally managed a small blaze on an irregular side of the ball.

Drake threw it in a close can, as well as the lighter.

With his hands deep in his pant pockets and a murderous look in his pale face, he made his way back to his cell. Stopping when he heard laughter and loud shouts in Spanish, which, by the way they were being yelled could only be insults.

He took a look inside the cell the noises were coming from, finding three boys. No, two boys that he recognized as being Timmy and Bob, the other person being a girl with short hair.

He thought she was a girl, after all, if she was any other thing than a girl Timmy wouldn't be seizing her breast, nor would be Bob trying to undo the button of her uniform trousers.

"Not so bad now, are you?" Timmy asked amused as he bent down to look directly into her dark eyes.

_Bad choice, _Drake thought as the girl spat on Timmy's face, her swearing and complains in a fluid Spanish growing louder.

"Suéltame! Hijo de puta!Cabrón!..." her protests ceased for a couple of seconds as Bob found out how to open the button fly from the angle the girl was being forced, then her face turned red in anger and her protests were renewed.

In an act of both stupid courage and heroism, Drake kicked the door fully open and stepped in.

"Timmy! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" The two boys jumped back dragging the girl with them and she almost fell to the ground, her loose trousers starting to slip down by the sudden movement.

Tim grinned as he recognized the younger boy on their front "Hey, man! How yah doing?" Drake swallowed hard as the squirming girl turned her hatred-full gaze at him.

"You didn't answer my damn question." He stood firm as he spoke. "Let her go man, she did nothing to you."

"There's your fucking mistake!" He wailed, shacking the tiny figure by her arms he was violently grasping. "This bitch punched me. It's going to leave a black eye." He bent down again so he could show Drake the purple skin around his brown eye.

"I'll do the same with the other if you come closer, cabrón!" the girl hissed and tried to bite Timmy's throat, nearly reaching it if Bob hadn't pulled her back, making her land on her butt.

Drake took the brief moment of distraction of the two boys, to punch Timmy on his bruised face.

He cried and fell on his knees, dropping the girl's arms. She didn't hesitate in kicking his throat.

Bob stood still, grabbing the girl's short hair, until she elbowed his knee-cap, and he made the mistake of giving her the opportunity to grab his neck, forcing him into performing a summersault that made him land on his back heavily.

Only then did the girl seemed to remember Drake, jumping to her feet and adopting a fighting position. He was just about to tell her to calm down, before she tried to punch him, instead falling to the ground with a groan, her trousers a curled mess around her ankles.

"You okay?" he asked coming closer to her, still keeping a safe distance. His interest in her well being seemed to intrigue her.

"Why do you fucking care?" she growled.

"I'd care about anyone who could kick those square beast's asses." He shrugged, holding his hand to her. She refused it and pulled her trousers up as she got up by herself. She started making her way out the cell, kicking Bob's face in her way out.

"Hey! Aren't you going to thank me?! "He protested as he hurried after her.

"For what?" She didn't even care to turn and face him.

"How bout for saving your ass?" she gave a small laugh.

"_You _saved my ass? If someone should be thanking anyone it should be you, Bob's an asshole but he can put up a hell of a fight." He grinned.

"If that's your way of thanking me, you're welcome. Nice boxers by the way." As he added the last part, he ran down the hallway while she shouted something in the incomprehensible language and ran on his heels.

**So, yeah this is my attempt to start this story. Not sure if it turned out good, a reasonable piece of shit or a complete piece of shit. Either way, I'll try to make better (and longer) chapters. Sorry if there's any grammar mistakes, but i don't speak english as mother language.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Different from the simulator, isn't it Vasquez?" Apone smirked, tucking an unlit cigar on his mouth.

Vasquez groaned and pulled herself into a sitting position in the small hypersleep chamber.

"Your friend doesn't seem to have the same kind of problem." Spunkmeyer chuckled.

She turned her head carefully to the chamber by her side.

Drake had fallen asleep and was now snoring, with a thin line of drool starting to make its way from a corner of his parted lips.

"Is it always this bad?" She grumbled, to no one in particular.

"Well babe, yah see, it's a total pain in the ass when we wake up from long trips, but this? We call this a fucking nap." Hudson grinned, coming a little too close for her liking.

"Careful Hudson. I'm not going to help you looking for your teeth again." Hicks warned as he walked by the two marines.

"Okay ladies, ten minutes in the playground then I want to see everyone's ass in the mess hall! No exception!" Apone yelled to the awaking marines. "Vasquez, wake up sleeping beauty, would you?"

She growled, but got up.

Her muscles felt like jelly, her vision was blurred; her mouth was filled with a raw taste and each sound seemed to leave a ringing echo on her ears. She also felt a lot like she would puke at any moment, but ignoring that, she forced her fist against the thick wall of muscles that composed Drake's abdomen.

He gave a deep pant and a groan, his face contorted in a grimace of annoyance, which at least contributed to raise her mood a little bit.

"Couldn't you have just shaken my arm a bit?" he hissed.

"Of course I could, but you see, I'm not a flight attendant." She joked, before heading to the lockers room.

She soon understood what Apone meant with 'playground'.

Spunkmeyer had just slapped Ferro's ass with a rolled shirt and she was now threatening to stick a hanger up his ass while Wierzbowski and Frost cheered, the rest of the team discussing who could kick the other's ass if a fight cracked.

Ten minutes in Gateway Station and Vasquez knew that most of the team were a bunch of clowns.

Apone, Hicks and Ferro weren't that bad, Wierzbowski, Crowe, Spunkmeyer, Frost and Dietrich were just a bit childish and then there were two very special cases.

Hudson could be called a player, although Vasquez doubted he could ever get laid. But he certainly tried, had even dared to slip an arm around her shoulders and thrown a really bad pickup line at her, while his hand started to slide down her back. Had to spend the next five minutes searching for his teeth with Hick's help.

Then there was the lieutenant. Apone didn't even had to tell her he was a synthetic, it was rather obvious. Also a bit strange, Weyland Yutani usually cared about making their synthetics as human as possible, but Flynn seemed to lack on that ability a lot. Both his speaking and movements were obviously robotics, plus his eyes were always gazing at anything, except the person he was talking to. It was like his programming prevented him from establishing eye contact.

Vasquez shocked her head and mobilized her shoulders, trying to get over the numbness that reigned over her body, before she noticed the not too high metal bar.

She had to tiptoe to grab it, but at least she reached it by herself.

She heard a few amused comments and another poll started, this one being about the number of pull-ups she could manage.

She turned around with a challenging look as she heard Frost commenting that she couldn't even reach ten.

"How much you wanna bet?" she defied. The other marines cheered again, placing bills on a metallic bench and throwing her a bunch of numbers.

Vasquez clapped her hands loudly to put a stop on the noise. "Sixty. No less. Fifty bucks from each one of you if I can do it. Agreed?" The marines shouted a loud 'yes', almost as in a chorus.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the bar, this time pulling herself up.

Her teammates whistled and kept daring her, most were pretty amazed with how easily she pulled herself up and down, how her breathing was deep, but controlled.

Around the twentieth pull-up, Drake showed up and immediately laughed as Crowe told him about the poll.

"What a waste of money." He commented, shaking his head and sitting alongside with Hudson and Hicks, on the front line.

Vasquez tank top was sticking to her skin from the sweat that ran down her neck and back, but she did not care about that.

Even though her muscles were aching and it felt like her tendons could break at any moment, she did more five pull-ups after she finished the sixty she'd set up. She dropped herself to the floor and turned around victoriously, grabbing the pile of bills and placing it on the bottom of her locket.

"Jeez Vas, couldn't you have called me earlier? I could have won some bucks too." Drake whispered as he ran his finger over her tensed biceps.

"Have you turned in a _furcia_ without me knowing?" she inquired. Drake tilted his head as he tried to find a meaning to whatever she'd called him.

"Whatever you say. You wanna take a swim at the pool?" he asked, already turning to the changing rooms.

"Ni siquiera muerta me encontrarías en una maldita piscina!" she suddenly snapped.

"What? The hell you mean?" he stammered a bit from her sudden burst of Spanish.

"I'm not going into that damn pool." Her head was hanging lower than it usually did.

"Oh, so you don't know how to swim." Drake smirked. "Well Vas, you came to the right person. I´ll teach you…"

"I know how to swim _idiota_! I just don't like doing it." She threw a clean top over her shoulder and hurried out of the lockers room.

"Wait! Why do you say that? You look like a damn good swimmer." He stated as he ran after her.

"You can't possibly say a person is good swimmer just because…"

"Hey! I said that I wanted to see _everyone _in the mess hall, you two included!" Apone rebuked loudly.

"No, you said you wanted to see our asses in ten minutes." Drake dared to say.

"And we don't have any watches to know when those ten minutes would be." Vasquez stepped ahead, which made Apone take a step back and wave his hand on front of his nose.

"I'll give you five minutes to get a fucking shower. God, Vasquez you smell like a rugby team."

"That's what usually happens after you exercise." She replied with a shrug.

"Your five minutes just went to three." The sergeant smirked as he started trying to drag Drake to the mess hall.

"Damn it, I can walk by my fucking self!" Drake mumbled as he pulled his arm free. "We will still have to talk about those swimming classes Vas!"

"Leave your sister alone, Drake." Apone growled. Vasquez laughed, but hurried her pace as Apone raised two fingers.

_**Furcia-**_** whore**

_**Ni siquiera muerta me encontrarías en una maldita piscina-**_** Not even dead would you find me in a damn pool**

**The Sulaco was made by Weyland Yutani and so I though that they would have built a pool for the marines to exercise, after all, swiming is a great way to keep in shape and having in count that the marines are risking their lives to protect the colonies so they obviously deserve one.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Vasquez, you go with Hudson." Apone ordered.

"Great." She growled.

"Well, well. Guess we'll be partners." Hudson smirked as he got closer to the petite latina, sliding his arms around her shoulders again.

Fell back with a long jump as she turned her Smartgun's muzzle at him.

"Touch me again and I'll blow your jewels off." She threatened.

"Jeez, chill out Vaz." He sighed, throwing a nervous look at the large gun, now aiming to his groin.

She snorted, went past him and penetrated into the dense forest.

The dark turquoise trees formed strange shadows that got on her nerves every time a breeze tossed its ovoid leafs from side to side.

"Anything so far?" She asked, tilting her head back to look at Hudson, now staring at his silent motion tracker.

"Nothing yet." He answered, in a confident tone.

Vasquez nodded, blinking a bit as a larger number of light sienna rays penetrate the tall crown. She jumped as the deep silence was broke by the sudden revival of the motion tracker.

"Shit. Forty meters ahead." Hudson reported, nervously. She leveled her gun, ready to shoot at anything that moved.

"Thirty meters. Twenty."

"How many?" Vasquez asked, swinging her weapon from left to right.

"Hum… one I think."

"You think?" She barked, jumping back and looking to the glistening screen.

"T-Ten meters." Hudson looked up. His face ran pale and he elbowed her arm, indicating a pair of green eyes, glaring at them intensely from a shadow.

Vasquez aimed at the space between the lime orbs, squeezing the trigger and holding the gun with more strength, preventing any sudden movements the strong recoil could make.

The alien jumped forward, emitting a bunch of sounds that resembled an equine, before falling to the ground, black blood dripping out of the bullet wounds on its head and shoulders.

"That's a damn ugly bastard." Hudson commented.

She nodded, walking past the quadruped animal laying dead. Immediately, the motion tracker emitted the same alarming sound.

"Forty meters, at least fifty of these bastards!" Hudson called Apone from his radio, tripping at his own words as he reported their current situation. "Their coming." He said tensely.

"Who? Ours or the fuckers?" Vasquez inquired in an annoyingly calm tone.

"Both! Thirty meters! We're fucked!" he bellowed.

"_Cállate_! Apone and the others are coming and you bet I'll hold these _hijos de puta _till they get here." She growled.

"Twenty meters. Damn it Vasquez, you better be right when you say you can hold them back." His body tensed further as he grabbed his pulse rifle "Ten meters."

As the first alien jumped out from the shadows, its jaws hanging open and its eyes glistening with hunger, Vasquez and Hudson opened fire against it and were forced to take a few steps back as an increasing number of similar creatures bolted at them, before other bursts of guns begun on their right.

"Mind if I crash in the show?" Drake grinned.

"Not at all, have fun." Vasquez smirked.

"Talk to me Hudson!" Apone commanded.

"If this crap's right, we have around thirty left, other twenty coming closer from the west." He answered over the gun's and neighing noise, seeming a little more confident with the arrival of his teammates.

Didn't take long before their path was blocked with a pile of the alien's corpses.

"Nice job, now. Hudson, Frost you guys have anything?" Apone cheered.

"No, sir. The place's dead now." Frost answered, lowering his incinerator unit.

"Same here, sir." Hudson replied.

"Good. Let's move on people! Drake, Vasquez take the front. Hudson, Frost warn me for any movement." The sergeant shouted, before reporting the events to Flynn.

The marines walked no longer than ten minutes before Apone stopped them with a whistle.

"Okay people, it's almost night time so let's set the tents and we'll chase down the rest of the pack tomorrow."

"Finally! Feels like my feet are covered in blisters." Hudson complained.

"Hope it hurts." Vasquez told him as she took off her battle harness and placed it near the place the other marines had chosen to settle their own gear.

"Hey Vasquez, wanna share a tent with me?" Hudson asked from his sitting position.

"She's with me." Drake growled, before Vasquez had time to answer. "That guys annoying as fuck."

"Tell something new, I've noticed that a while ago." She said as she stretched her arms arching an eyebrow and Frost gave the two of them a pair of rectangular containers.

"The fuck's this?" Vasquez asked, turning it around to find '_MRE_' written on it.

"Your dinner." Drake replied, tearing open his own. He pulled out a baggie, filled with what looked like smoked salmon. Vasquez teared her own bag and arched an eyebrow as she found a baggie containing shrimp fried rice. Or so she believed that was its content.

"And I thought juvie's food as bad." Drake grumbled, as he nibbled on the fish he'd pulled out of the baggie with a plastic fork.

"Eat your fuck own." Vasquez growled, pulling her dinner away as he tried to stick his fork on it.

"Mine's crappy." He complained.

"So is mine." She punched him in the stomach and he imitated a regurgitating sound. "Puke to the other side, _pendejo_"

"You're getting yourself a bad habit, Vas." He coughed, and was able to steal a forkful of her rice as she straightened herself up.

The only part of the MRE that Vasquez considered be decent was the dessert, hers being banana pudding and Drake's cinnamon apples.

"Don't wait up for me, sweetie." He grinned, licking off a bit of cinnamon from a corner of his lips as he watched her getting up and unzipping the entrance of the closest tent, chuckling as she flipped the bird at him.

Vasquez took off her heavy boots and putted them down in a corner, pulling off her vest and trousers.

The tent wasn't much spacious, but was large enough to accommodate two grown men.

The dark green sleeping bags were cold and felt weird against her skin. She sighed and laid her head on the soft pillow, almost falling asleep after a while, when a cold blast of wind prickled her arms and neck.

Drake was standing near her, removing his wet clothes.

"This is a bad time to go outside." He commented, tousling his dripping hair. "Lucky Spunkmeyer and Ferro, if they're not in the Sulaco, they're in the colony, dry and warm."

"Jealousy is a sin." Vasquez teased, yawning.

"I woke you up?" He asked.

"Would have preferred if you had, it would at least mean I had some fucking sleep."

"You're having insomnias?" He asked as he lay under his mat, shirtless.

"Nah, I think my brain is still under the effect of the hypersleep." She feel back down and turned around, jumping up as a freezing cold arm wrapped itself around her shoulders. "Get off me, muñeco de nieve."

"I'm cold." He groaned, coming closer and pressing his slightly warmer chest to her back.

"Yeah, I've noticed that."

"I hate camping so fucking much." He growled, pulling her closer.

"If I agree would you loose it up a little?" She tried to wriggle free from his bear hug, relaxing as he ease his grip on her torso, resting his chin on her shoulder, his breath tickling her short hair.

"Can I ask you something?" He whispered, sending a tingling sensation down her spine.

"Depends on your question." She whispered back.

"Who's the kid on the picture on your locker?" Vasquez shifted a bit; the theme he picked left her a little uncomfortable.

"My half-sister." She answered after a while.

"You have a sister?" he asked, his eyelashes scrapping her cheek.

"Half-sister. And why the fuck are you that surprised? I didn't bother much when you told me about your brother." She shrugged, pulling the edge of the sleeping mate further up.

"I just never really thought about you as a role model to anyone." She felt the corners of his mouth curl up in a smirk. "Big sister Vasquez. Not really that big." He chuckled. She elbowed him in his ribs, but her own mouth curled in a smile.

"I'm no role model; I have more entertaining things to do." She yawned, shifting again to a more comfortable position. Drake resettled his chin on her shoulder and curled his legs against hers.

"You two are pretty alike." He breathed out before falling in a deep sleep, leaving Vasquez pondering on his words.


	4. Chapter 4

_The little girl pulled up her bruised legs to her chest as she sat on her dirty bed, making an extreme effort to hold back her burning tears._

_Her knuckles pulsed painfully; her stomach growled and her busted lower lip bleed, painting her shirt and sheets in a dark tone of red._

_She curled herself tightly in a ball as she heard violent punches against her locked door, threats and insults echoed on her ears._

_Holding back a sob, and walking as silently as her skeletal figure allowed, she approached her stained window, and thanking the fact she lived in the ground floor, jumped out to the heavy rain, the cold water relieved the pain on her bruises and washed her blood away._

* * *

><p>"Vas, Vasquez!" she was pulled out of her sleep as Drake shacked her shoulders and called her in low, but worried voice.<p>

Vasquez jumped up, kneeling by his side, running a shacking hand through her short hair that sticked to her sweaty forehead.

"You're okay?" he asked, rubbing her arm in a comfort attempt.

"I'm fine. Just a damn nightmare." She replied, letting herself collapse on top of his broad chest. Drake ran his fingertips through her crew cut hair, ignoring the damp feeling that formed on them.

"You sure?" he questioned, snuggling the warm sleeping bag around her sweaty body.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure." She replied, curling her fingers against his strong shoulder, berating herself for letting such an old memory still affect her.

After all, she was a marine, and past would always be just past for her. She had much more important things to worry about, couldn't lose time with memories and nightmares, she reminded herself, nuzzling her head against Drake's chest, his steady heartbeat causing her own breathing to stabilize as well, before he fell asleep again and she was left to think about her life choices.

She felt a bit prideful as she found nothing to complain. She had her sister, her father, a rather decent team and to top that, the best bud she could have asked for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the late (and short) updates, I've been full of exams this two months, but I expect that from now on I'll be able to update regularly, maybe weekly.**

Drake and Hicks advanced slowly through the deserted hallways of Hera City's complex, Drake in the lead, drawing imaginary lines through the air with his Smartgun's nuzzle.

The silence was worst than any possible noise, set his nerves on fire and made his stomach leap.

The duo didn't had to advance much longer for that silence to be broken.

"Drop your guns or I'll blow her fuckin' head off!" a demanding voice echoed as they reached a dark trifurcation.

The voice belonged to a bulky man, restraining a little girl by her shoulder, using her thin body as a shield, pushing a revolver against her blonde temple.

Hicks was the first to react, his voice calm as he began an attempt to convince the man to drop his pistol and the girl, who was crying and cringing silently.

Drake was silent, trying to find the best place to shoot him. Torso and head were out of question as they were totally shielded by the youngster; his hands were well placed, in such an angle he could barely make out a millimeter of them. This left only his legs, but Drake feared he'd reflectively fire the semi-automatic gun if he tried to shoot him.

"Put your guns down! Now!" His voice was tense, his eyes wide open, never looking away from the two marines.

Grumbling, Drake slipped out of his harness, dropping it on the dirty floor. Hick's rifle and shotgun followed, the sound of metal against metal echoed through the silent corridors.

"On my front, hands where I can see them." He sounded calmer, now that the two marines were disarmed, although, he still didn't let go of the colonist.

The two stepped forward, their hands felt stupid as they pulled them to the level of their heads.

The man's orders were firm and almost calm, broken only by a thin line of tenseness, as he directed the two of them through the dimly illuminated corridors.

They stopped only after what felt like a mile, when they reached a large, ample room, which Drake presumed to have been a mess hall.

Now, it was just a really messy room, with tables turned upside down and broken chairs, hosting a large number of colonists, all cuffed by their wrists and ankles, their expressions blank as they rested against the metallic walls with several bullet holes and some blood stains.

Two men were watching over the crowd of men and women, children and teens, each holding a pulse rifle as they lazily patrolled the large room.

The taller of the two approached the arriving group, examining the two soldiers before grinning and pulling out a couple of old-styled handcuffs, swiftly restraining Hicks's hands and feet, pushing the older marine down, before he turned to face Drake's larger frame.

The cuff's clicking sound as they closed around his wrists made his throat run dry. His ankles were restrained right after, and he was pushed down to the floor, where he landed helplessly on his butt.

He hoped Vasquez was in a better situation than he was, sighing has he reminded himself she was paired with Hudson.

She was pretty good at a fight, either armed or disarmed, good at hiding and could walk as silently as a shadow. But Hudson… well, he kinda lowered her odds, even though he had more experience than she did.

He raised his eyes as the same man that had ambushed both him and Hicks reentered the room, grasping the same girl's shoulder, Frost and Dietrich paced slowly on his front.

A few moments later another man arrived with Crowe and Wierzbowski, then Apone, later, Hudson.

Alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Drake's muscles tensed up, aching into his wrists and ankles as the cuffs dug their way into them, while he was forced to walk away from the silent mess hall with tiny paces in a quick motion, finally stopping as he and the man who was dragging him by the arm reached the colony's dorms.

Even before the automatic door had time close, Drake as already been shoved into a sitting position on a dusty bed, the white sheets turning into a dark shade of red as his wrists make just the slightest contact with them.

A pair of light brown eyes blocked his view, and he can distinguish the wildness, the madness behind them.

"Hello Drake. Haven't seen you in quite a long time." His voice sounded like a bark, his wide grin completing the picture of an angry dog perfectly.

"Hello Timmy." He made his voice sound as challenging as he could manage, even though that, inside, he was fearful.

Not for himself. For Vasquez. He can still remember how the two's last meeting went.

He prays she'll get out of the complex and convince Flynn to call on a rescue team.

But he knows her. She's not a person that runs away from trouble. She's the kind of person that goes straight into that trouble and kicks it till it's nothing.

A sickly chuckle fills his ears. Looking up, he sees Timmy biting his lips as he eyed him up and down with a mocking expression.

"Can't believe you turned to that side Drake. The hell happened to you man?" for a fraction of a second, Drake can see his expression softening, before going back to the same hateful appearance as before.

_He's no longer a man_. He realizes. _Not a sane one, at least._He swallowed hard as he stared at what used to be his best pal.

"I grew a brain. You should try to do the same while you still have a chance." He putted all his firmness and conviction on his words. A shiver ran down his spine as Timmy laughed again.

"You grew a brain? Is that really what you think it happened? Oh Drake, I really thought you were smarter than that. Not much, but... a little smarter." he mocked.

He growled and looked up with a blood-thirsty grimace. "What do you fuckin mean by _that_?"

"There's my point! But, let's keep that argument for later, shall we? I was actually referring to that little bitch. Yes, don't try to fool me with insults and angry faces. We both know this is all because of her. You used to have everything you wanted: money, cars, a bunch of chicks fighting just to lick your boots. And yet, you threw all that out of the window just because a whore with a nice pair of tits walked by, and now, here you are." he gestured to his uniform in a theatrical gesture. He didn't seem to care much as Drake's face went to a bright red tonality, his blood-soaked hands clenched into fists and his eyes widened while a vein on his forehead palpitated.

"Don't you fucking dare talking about her." the sentence was pronounced slowly, each word slipped out with a fake calmness.

He never wanted to punch someone as badly as he wanted to punch Timmy, principally when his threatening voice brought a smirk to his face.

"Well, well. Mark Drake cares for someone! That's quite a surprise, after all, you _never,_cared for anyone, other than you." he grinned triumphantly as Drake's breathing became deeper, all his attempts to control his anger and frustration for his current situation failed completely.

"I care for other people. You can't say I don't just because I never gave a shit about what could happen to you or your brother." his raspy answer just made Timmy's grin grow wider and wider.

"Liar. Never once did you cared for anyone. You must like her. For real. You never moved a straw to protect someone's honor, or to protect anything, really. You like her. Too bad I don't." despise his current angriness, the way he said the last sentence made every hair on Drake's body stand on its edge.

"Leave her outta this, she hasn't done anything to you"

"Funny, those words reminds me of how you two met. I got a black eye, a sore throat and a broken nose." He sighed, raising his hand to his neck and tilting his head.

"Can't say I regret it." _Neither does Vasquez_. He thought.

"Of course, why would you anyway? It's not like it matter much now, does it? And, speaking of the way you two met… you have no idea of the fun we'd have. Just me, Bob and her. I had it all planned on my head." He flicked his index against his temple as analyzed Drake's face in search for any changing on his expression. Indeed, the anger was replaced by a slightly frightened look. "Too bad you came and blew my plans off. She'd have the day of her life. Just, answer me this: she came here with you today, didn't she?"

Drake fell silent, his heart beating wildly against his ribcage, his cheeks and ears paled to a deadly tone. Timmy chuckled, triumph filling his expression and voice.

"Of course she came with you! You two never lost each other out of sight, why would you change that now? Too bad Bob ain't here, he kinda liked her. But don't worry Drake, I can replace my brother just fine." He was now laughing wildly, while Drake was silent. "I'd ask if you wanted to join, but, having In count how long you've been with that bitch I'll have to assume you two already fu…" his sentence was cut off as Drake's forehead collided harshly with his nose.

He fell out of his crouching position, cringing on the floor, looking up a few moments later between his fingers while a flood of blood ran through them.

"Your little friend will be the one who'll pay for that." He growled, before he drew a small switchblade out of his pocket, twirling it around his hand as he let go of his broken nose, crouching again, his eyes flaming with anger as he made the cold edge of the blade met Drake's left temple, breaking the thin skin, drawing a firm line until it reached his hairline.

Drake felt dizzy, the pain in his temple surpassed the one on his wrists and ankles altogether, the blood tingled as it ran down his cheek.

Timmy grinned like a maniac as he drew another line, close to the first one, before grabbing a piece of Drake's hair and pushing his head against the dusty sheets, his recent wounds sting as the tender flesh met the dust.

Timmy leaned in, his grip increased as he whispered by Drake's ear.

"Be a good boy, and I might consider not hurting her. Much." He pulled himself up, putting the switchblade back at his pocket and walking out of the room with large steps.

Drake let himself stay in the same position as he heard two voices outside of the door.

"Don't let anyone enter or leave that room. Got it?" Timmy's voice inquired.

"Yes boss." A deeper voice answered.

The sound of steps echoed through the small room until everything grew silent.


	7. Chapter 7

Silence and solitude had always brought unwanted memories into Vasquez's mind.

This time was no exception.

Pictures and voices flooded her mind, some of them so old, she wondered how the hell she could even remember them. She shook her head softly as she crawled through the ceiling, the gridded panels marking both her hands and knees.

She was angry and frustrated as she clenched her tactical knife between her teeth, grumbling silently under her breath, annoyed with the little control she held over her own mind.

She stopped as two voices reached her, not that far away from the point she was kneeling. Breathing deeply, she approached the source, stopping to undo her boots with slow, silent movements as she sighted two men.

She held the boots for a few seconds, before throwing one in the direction of the pair.

"Crap! Did you hear that?" a slightly frightened voice inquired, as soon as the heavy shoe hit the panels, a few feet from where the two men were standing, sending an echoing sound through the whole hallway.

"Yeah, right over there." Vasquez threw the other boot in the opposite direction, still as a statue as the panels vibrated beneath her feet.

"You go check that way, I'll see over there." One of them commanded.

The sound of footsteps approached, until Vasquez had a clear view of a bulky man, holding a rifle, with an anxious expression.

She waited patiently until he disappeared into another corridor, before pulling up a panel close to her.

The impact of her feet and the floor produced a light 'thump', almost inaudible from more than three feet.

The knife felt too light, compared to the reassuring weight of the Smartgun she'd had to abandon in a cleaning pantry, being too large for her to carry it through the ceiling.

Vasquez was stealthy as she followed the footsteps, until she sighted him, just a few feet from the corner of the corridor she was in.

With three silent steps, Vasquez was just a few inches from his back, with her knife raised above her head, aiming for the back of the man's head.

The impact made his stiff body fell forward, the metallic sound of the rifle as it fell echoed through the hallway loudly.

"Greg, you're okay?" the voice sounded close, as if just a couple feet away. Vasquez span around and gave a quick race, raising the bloodstained knife again, her arm strong as steel as the blade penetrated the other man's torso. In the next moments, copper was the only thing she tasted, as the man spat a cup-full of blood onto her face.

The impact made his limp body fall back, an unceasing flow of blood falling into the other levels as it slipped through the gridded floor.

Vasquez was tempted to leave the hallway and abandon the bodies to be found by some patroller the group of rebels sent, before realizing that it would just warn them that there was still a free marine inside the complex.

She was quick as she dragged the corpses into a close room, not even minding about the pool of blood that was still falling through the floor. It didn't really mattered much, having in count the quantity of rust and dust that covered the whole level. The blood poll would go perfectly unnoticed, principally with such a poor illumination.

She walked silently, focusing on every little sound that reached her ears, ignoring the cold that numbed her feet.

Vasquez raised her head as she developed her plan, turning around to return to the room where she'd abandoned the bodies of the two rebels, feeling her confidence raising as she revised her plan over and over into her head.


	8. Chapter 8

**WARNING: this chapter contains mild descriptions of gore and rape attempt.**

"Private, this will be the last time I'll repeat my orders. Return to the APC _immediately_." Flynn's voice came through Vasquez's ratio. She snorted, gripping the knife's grips she continued her way through the poorly illuminated corridor.

"I am not taking orders from a fucking smug machine."

"Well, this 'smug machine' as you said, is your superior, who is now giving you a direct order to…"

"Forget about that shit and do something useful for once! Can you tell me where are the others?" there was only silence, but she could make out the sound of the chair being dragged around and keyboards being pressed.

"I'm receiving multiple signals from the complex's cafeteria, 50 meters ahead of your current position, but private…"

"Yeah, thanks a lot by your help. I'll be back with my guys before lunch time. _Adios_." She felt a bit of satisfaction as she pulled her headset off, moving faster and with lighter steps. She leaped back as she crossed a corridor corner, sighting a muscular man standing with a rifle in the middle of the corridor she'd almost walked in.

"Frank? Is that you'" he asked, and Vasquez could hear his footsteps as he approached slowly.

"_Mierda_." She muttered, as the man got closer.

A couple more steps and she could see the rifle's muzzle, which made her clutch the grip and flex her legs. With a quick stretch of her legs, she leaped into the man's left side like a canon ball, throwing both into the ground.

The man screamed as he felt a sharp pain in his side, and seconds later on his elbow. He squirmed, trying to reach the fallen pulse rifle, a few inches from his hand. Then, he felt something squirming on top of him, felt a small hand cover his mouth and saw the cold glisten of a tactical knife.

"Don't even bother, _pendejo_." Vasquez spat as the man's fingers brushed the rifle. A splatter of blood covered Vasquez's front and face, already stained with drying blood, as the knife sliced his throat open in a moment.

_Guess I'll really have to take a shower when we get back to the Sulaco. _She thought.

She really hated the showers on the ship; the water was always cold and smelled like chlorine. _Oh well…_

Just now did she realized how light the rifle was, as she strapped it to her back. Dragging the body behind her, she entered a closed lab, climbed on top of a table and crawled inside the ceiling with the corpse slowing her down a bit.

She moved slowly, stopping now and then to readjust the strap of the rifle or to get a better hold on the dead man's arms. Panting, she stopped as she reached the cafeteria's door.

She could see a large number of colonists, cuffed and restringing against a wall. At the end of the group of civilians, she recognized her team, also cuffed and in the same position as the colonists.

_Mierda_. She immediately noticed that Drake was missing.

Two patrols walked back and forth, holding rifles and with attentive expressions.

Making an effort to hold her panting, Vasquez crawled a little more inside the room, crouched silently, and pulled the man to her front, panting as she threw him, right on top of the spot the two patrols were standing.

The silence that ruled over the room was taken as the two raised their rifles and shot unstopping the shadow they could see on top of them. Cryes and whimpers left the colonists mouths, while the marines had the most shocked face she'd ever seen on anyone.

Vasquez pulled the borrowed rifle off her back and aimed for one of the two shooters head. The other didn't even noticed when his partner's head was blown to pieces, and kept firing until his own head was blown as well.

The bloody scene didn't help much to the shouts of the crowd of civilians that were now covered in blood and brain matter.

Pulling a panel up, Vasquez dropped to the ground, and her theatrical entrance also didn't make much for the screams.

"Jesus, Vasquez, what the hell happened to you?" Hudson inquired, scanning her bloody clothes.

"Business obligations." She replied, drawing out a key from a dead patrol's pocket.

"Flynn's probably pissed at you right now, you know?" Apone raised his eyebrow, but he did have quite an impressed expression now.

"Who cares really?" she shrugged. It took her almost ten minutes to get out all of the cuffs to everyone. "Where's Drake?" she asked to Hicks.

"A guy dragged him out. I think he took him to one of those rooms over there." He pointed to the corridor where the man had been standing with the rifle Vasquez now had.

She nodded and walked out, the sound of her footsteps barely audible even to her with all the high toned conversations and whimpers of the youngest colonists.

She went straight to the middle of the corridor, making an effort to remember which room the man had been standing in front of.

"Hello honey. How have you been?" she felt the round muzzle of an handgun against her ribs, seconds before she recognized the voice.

"Hey there Timmy. How's the eye going?" she grumbled, feeling the small gun she now identified as a revolver pushing harder against her back.

"You haven't gotten much smarter since the last time we meet, did you? Did no one told to never walk alone in a place like this?"

"I don't have time for your bullshit. Where's Drake?" she didn't fear the guy, he was a sad excuse for a rat, and she could kill him right there if she wanted. All she needed was an opportunity.

"You want to see your little friend? Very well." He literally dragged her to a close door.

She could see Drake, still laying in the bed, the sheets stained by the blood that flowed from his temple, his breathing was barely noticeable.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" she almost screamed, feeling more angered than scared. Timmy's chest vibrated as he chuckled.

"Me? I did nothing. I was just showing him what a person's choices can bring." His voice was childish, but the grip he maintained on the gun was still firm.

He pushed her further into the room, closing the door and getting the gun out of her hands, throwing it into the bed, a few inches from Drake's back. He opened his eyes a little, and Vasquez could see the confusing mix of hatred, pain and fear in his eyes.

She almost walked forward when a large hand wrapped itself around her chest, playing with her breasts. She didn't have to look up to see Timmy's teasing face, directed to Drake's, she could see his eyebrows frowning and his eyes turning dark as he started shaking with rage.

She ignored the feeling of repulsion that grew inside her, bearing his sick game, as she imagined how great it would feel to break his damn neck.

_Not yet… _she told herself, as the gun's muzzle stopped pushing against her ribs so hard.

If he fired at that range, she'd still get hit.

She still felt the gun when the hand started to head lower, past her pants edge and eventually her shorts.

"Let her go ,Timmy. Please." Came Drake's low beg, as he saw Vasquez involuntary struggle.

_Come on Vas, it's just a goddamn finger._ She told herself, breathing deep. It still brought an unpleasant burn on her entrance.

"Damn, you're tight." Timmy chuckled. A gasp finally left Vasquez lips as he pulled his finger harder and deeper. The pain was dim, but was there, just like the gun, that started to drift away from her back.

_Now!_

She ducked down, away from his hand and from the bullet that left the gun as he reflectively pressed the trigger.

With all the rage and strength that she had, she leaped to his legs, throwing him off balance and knocking him flat on the ground. She grabbed his wrist, as he started to raise his arm to shoot her. With a strong twist, she forced him to drop the gun, and punched his face with all the strength that she had.

She felt bones breaking as she sank her fist into his face. She still felt it wasn't enough, so she pushed him again and again. She stopped when there was nothing left worth to punch.

Panting and even bloodier than she had been before, she got up.

Drake was observing from the dusty bed, forcing his eyes to keep open. Vasquez flew there, getting out the cuffs key with shaky hands.

He grunted as she helped him up, putting all she got in her legs as she carried both to the cafeteria.


	9. Chapter 9

Drake noticed three things as his senses came back to him: first, he was lying on a bed, which he recognized as being from the Sulaco's sick bay.

Two, the pain in his temple decreased, to the point where it was just a distracting throb.

Three, Vasquez was standing by his side, covered in blood and with her knuckles wrapped in bandages.

"Vasquez?" his voice was painfully low, his eyelids shook as he scanned her carefully. She rolled her eyes, her impatience clear.

"No, the Easter bunny. Do you need glasses? Or would you prefer contact lens?" her tone was mocking, but he also notices the worry in her eyes as she gazed at him, while he chuckled softly.

"No, but if you got a playbunny costume you'd do a fine…" he gasped as she punched him on his stomach, not hard enough to be painful, but enough to make him exhale harshly .

"Shut up, _pendejo_." She is close to blushing, but somehow she can hold that, crosses her arms on front of her chest and watches him chuckle while trying to catch his breath.

His eyes widen, his face goes dead pale and he forces himself in a sitting position, looking dizzy from the quick action, as the recent events came back to his memory.

"Where's that son of a bitch?!" he tried to shout and get out of the bed, but failed both, ending up growling and being pushed back in the bed by Vasquez, whose patience was running thin.

"Use your head for once, _estupido_. How do you fuckin' think I got these?" she raised her hands to where he could see them clearly.

"Is he… Did he…" he stammers after a couple seconds of silence.

"He's dead, _cabeza hueca. _And you have got a lot of things to explain to me. Like, where the hell did you knew the guy from. And what did you do to him to make him hate you like he did?" she pointed an accusatory finger at him, the glaze in her eyes made him feel small as a bug that she could crush between her fingers, even though he's almost twice her size.

He sighed, mentally thanking Dietrich as she interrupted Vasquez from her desk, on the opposite side of the room.

"Hey Vasquez, why don't you go take a shower, hum? He needs to get a few minutes of rest and it looks like you got out of a slaughterhouse." She suggested, looking over the files she has spread on the metal desk.

Vasquez nodded, and turned to leave with a growl, looking over her shoulder to throw a "_this is not over_" kind of look to Drake, who laid his head on the hard pillow again, falling asleep almost at the same time.

Dietrich shook her head, and went back to her files, before she remembered that she was supposed to warn Vasquez that Flynn has said that he wanted to see the young private, as she ended to wrap her knuckles.

With a sigh, she jumped up and ran after the smartgunner.


	10. Chapter 10

"Who the fuck do you think you are, _carbon_?!" Vasquez barked, automatically jumping up from her chair.

"I am your superior, thus, if you don't want to get into any more troubles, I'd counsel you to sit down and to watch your tongue." Flynn said, not looking up from the annoyingly organized notes on his desk.

"Fuck you! You're not my superior, you're a damn smug robot that the USCM signed to this ship for no fuckin' reason!" her outburst echoed through the small room, and made Flynn sigh and look at her with a tired expression on his creamy skin –as if robots could actually get tired.

"You should have already guessed that the reason that I was signed to this particular ship, was mainly because of you and Drake. The USCM couldn't just let two criminals walk out of the prison into a place like this, where they'd use weapons all time. At least, not without a proper supervision." His annoying robotic voice was like a slap to her face.

Of course she knew the director of the USCM had been fairly apprehensive to let the two of them be on the Sulaco, or any other ship actually. But, from that to send a robot to keep them under watch, as if they were two misbehaved kids? How the hell did Flynn expected her to have guessed _that_?

She sat down again, looking rather pissed off and surprised, a combination that didn't made Flynn feel much comfortable. He got up, and walked around the room in his usually erected stance, with his arms crossed behind his back, his gray eyes never leaving her, as if he expected her to attack him all of a sudden.

"Now, if you were other soldier, those actions could have gotten you out of the active. But, in your special case, you are more likely to spend the rest of your life cleaning ships and the gateway station. But, as this was the first time you disobeyed one of my orders, and it proved to be valuable for the mission, I'm disposed to make a deal with you." He stepped closer, carefully, and laid his cold hands on her broad shoulders, pressing his cold fingertips against her shoulder blades.

"What kind of a deal?" _cabrón_, she added on her mind.

She felt very suspicious about all this, but the idea of spending the rest of her life in goddamn cleaning services made her shut up and listen to what he had to say.

"You'll obey my orders without even questioning them for a second, and you better watch your tongue from now on. And you'll call me 'Sir', from now on, just like everyone else does. I'm not giving other choice as to accept them, understood?" his fingers pressed a bit harder against her skin, then eased up again. It took her a couple seconds before realizing he was massaging her shoulder, a fact that didn't made her feel any more relaxed.

"Understood." She sighed."Sir." she added between clenched teeth as he rubbed her shoulders more vigorously.

"Good. Dismissed." He let go of her and walked back to his chair, walking even more erectly.

She quickly made her way to the door, with anger and frustration accumulation on her chest. She would have slammed the door with enough strength for it to jump from the door frames, but it was automatic, and so she just let it close behind her, with a vacuum like sound.


	11. Chapter 11

Drake was already up and changing into new clothes when Vasquez got to the infirmary, looking more like a wild hurricane than a person.

"What's wrong?" Drake tilted his head, making an effort not to laugh at her.

Sure, she was dangerous when she got mad, almost homicidal, actually, but Drake had always found some amusement in watching her go all red in the face and ears while her eyes widened and darkened as she looked capable of beheading a person with her bare hands. It was fun to watch, as long as you were not the one who was the cause of her ire. But it was certainly fun for him, as it was usually Hudson who took the blame and punches.

"Flynn! That's what's fucking wrong!" she was totally pissed, with a crazy expression and really messy hair, a bit strange given its length.

"What did he do?" Drake pulled his shirt, now a vest, after he had ripped off the sleeves. She sat on the bed, kicking the bed leg viciously, and then snorted.

"Can you believe the USCM sent that bastard to keep a freaking eye on us?'"

"Well, I guess that would make us kind of important." He replied, after a few moments of discomfortable silence. She couldn't help but to chuckle awkwardly at his reply, while playing with the white bandages that dressed her knuckles.

"Yeah, sure. We're the USCM celebrities." She shrugged.

Drake chuckled, and then leaned forward with a puzzled expression, pulling the straps of her top away to examine the faint finger marks on her shoulders.

"Where the fuck did you got these from?" his fingers brushed the marks lightly, his eyebrows arched slightly.

"In what I believe is called a 'massage', Sherlock." She slapped his hands away and readjusted the straps that were starting to slip down her arms.

"Wait. Flynn gave a massage? Shit, I actually thought he had an allergy to human skin or something like that." He chuckled, but Vasquez could detect the faintest hint of jealousy in his tone.

"I guess it must have been for intimidation issues." she shrugged.

"You're in troubles?" he tilted his head, but quickly straightened it as he began to feel a bit dizzy.

"Nah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it." She jumped to her feet. Drake nodded, then grinned as a thought popped into his mind.

"Hey Vas, would you mind coming with me?" she didn't like the grin that crossed his face, nor the malicious look on his eyes, but brushed it off as he walked slowly to the door, shoeless and with his stupid cap forgotten on the bedside table.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ahora muero." Vasquez thought as her lungs ached for air, the roots of her hair burned and her eyes stung. <em>

_She had already been expecting for something like this to happen, thus she'd always lock the door while she bathed. But she had been too damn tired to remember it tonight. For a split second, she thought of letting the hand that clasped her hair and head down on the water continue its work for the remaining amount of air that was left in her lungs._

_Then she remembered three things that had always made fight back._

_Anger. A desire for revenge. Her own dignity. Practically, the only things she had left to stand for._

_Without a second thought, she sank her teeth into the finger closer to her mouth, grabbed the wrist with a crushing strength and used her spare hand to pull herself out the water. The air was a blessing, even as she coughed out water mixed with shampoo._

_Not wasting a single precious second, she jumped out of the bath, and almost tripped onto the curled body near it. There was a bleeding wound in the finger she'd bitten and the wrist was twisted into an unnatural position._

_A la mierda con ela, she thought, getting up and running for the safety of her bedroom, throwing the door shut and locking it harshly._

* * *

><p>Vasquez's head erupted from the water so unexpectedly and violently that she almost hit Drake's jaw, missing by a couple of mere inches.<p>

He grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her on the edge of the pool, where she shivered fiercely and spat water.

"What's wrong?" he blinked while drops of waters dampened the adhesive bandage on his temple, producing a stinging sensation on his wound.

"N-nothing. Just… I swallowed water." She stammered.

"I noticed that. I'm asking you why did you jump out of the pool like that. Shit, Vas, it looks like you saw a ghost or something." He brushed a short strand of hair away from her forehead.

His voice was interrogative, with a slightly severe undertone, but he still looked worried and kind, with an expression he always had reserved for her, and for her only.

"I just… never mind. It's not that much of a big deal anyway." She shrugged, getting up shakily and approaching the dressing rooms slowly.

"You're sure about that?" he pulled himself out of the water, reaching for the towel he'd set on the handrail of the small stairwell.

Vasquez hesitated for a moment, then turned her head to look at him and nodded, before continuing her way to the female's room without any other word or sound.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry to have suddenly changed into first-person point of view, but only recently did I realized how much easier it is for me to write stuff that way.**

**Drake's P.O.V**

* * *

><p>I couldn't help a smile as Vasquez picked up the overly excited teen that had just ran to her. I immediately assumed her to be Carmen, her younger half-sister.<p>

Too far away to hear what they were saying, I leaned against a wall, observing the scene in a deep silence.

They were very different from one other. Carmen was almost as tall as Vasquez, and she didn't look to be more than thirteen. She was skinny as hell, her skin, eyes and long, braided hair were a lot lighter than Vasquez's. But Carmen's bubbly smile was what truly differentiated them. Vasquez could never smile like that; it was way too girlish for her.

Vasquez also looked strangely cheerful, but also a bit tired. Which was understandable, as she had spent the last nights sneaking into my quarters, waking me up and asking if she could sleep there, claiming she couldn't fall asleep on her's. I didn't mind it much, but I could feel her turning over and over again through the night, and when she did find a way to fall asleep, she usually woke up covered in sweat.

She deserved these few days off. We all did, in fact.

I was the forever alone of the team. Everyone was with someone: girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, friends, familiars… whatever. And I was leaning against a wall, watching the whole damn scene from afar. Hell, even Hudson was with his girlfriend, laughing and kissing.

A sighed left my lungs as I messed with my hair, before I noticed someone leaning against the wall, observing me.

I don't know how to describe what I felt when I recognized him, but whatever it was, it burned all through my body and mind.

Vasquez spotted him too when her sister tried to drag her out of the reception room, and she quickly made up an excuse to hurry to me. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" my voice came out harsh, not exactly what I wanted it to sound, but she didn't even seem to mind. My eyes were fixed on his gray ones, and I wondered about the reasons that might have brought my brother here.

"Are you going to talk to him?" she was careful as she spoke.

"I was actually beating the shit out of him, but I guess that could work too." I breathed deeply, crossed my arms in front of my chest, and locked my eyes with my brothers', almost as if we were making that stare completion. She wetted her lips and sighed, turning her dark eyes to me, with that stare that made me feel cautionful.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No… just, go have some fun with your sister. I can handle that shithead." I messed with her hair, just to have something to do, other than to stare at my brother and standing still like a guard or something.

Vasquez snatched a pen out an android's butt pocket, who was walking by with a stack of papers, and quickly scribbled what looked like an address on my palm. "I'll see you later then. And Drake, don't do anything stupid."

She walked away without another word, and both her and her sister went out of the building, leaving me alone with my brother, and approximately eighty other people.

I sighed, put on my most badass stare and walked up to my brother, who put on his most lame smile. "I Mark. Haven't heard much from you, since a while ago." His voice was still on that annoying pitch he never got out of, his eyes didn't glisten the same way they did a few years ago, and there were deep bags under each one.

"What do you fuckin' want?" he didn't seemed to be much surprised for my hostile reply, in fact, he just kept smiling like an idiot.

"Where did you get that scar?" he had to tiptoe to examine my scarred temple.

"Where did you get all that fat" it was a reasonable question. He had always resembled a stick, no matter how much he ate, or what he ate.

And yet now, his belly looked almost like a huge ball. "Office work does that to you. You got some muscles. Pretty impressive. I remember how much you hated body building." He smirked.

"Field work does that to you. And you didn't answer my other question, Tom"

He sighed, gesturing into the direction of the doors behind his back. "Can we talk somewhere else?"

I nodded, and was the first one to get out of the building, stopping for a while as the sunlight hit straight in my eyes.

The sound of the dropships that entered and left the building was nerve-racking, but even more were the clumsy steps that Tom gave as hurried down the stairs. "I'm going to be very honest and brief with you, Mark. You already know I'm not here to apologize for the fifth time."

His sentence made me feel rather pissed, because of how he said it. As if he had the most important thing to do and being here with me was a waste of his precious, little time. I began walking down the street with big steps, making him hurry to catch up with me.

He was already panting after a few moments of almost running. "Like I was saying, I'm only here because dad made me promise I'd give you this, as soon as he passed and I got a chance to see you."

I stopped very still in the middle of the sidewalk, letting my brain process what he'd just said, while he began to try to withdraw something from his briefcase, fumbling with a stack of papers that occupied most of the space.

"You mean the old man died? From what, exactly?" the question sounded cold and uninterested as it left my lips, but hell, there was a pierce in my heart. He had been the only familiar I had that I could stand to spend a day with, without starting to have homicidal thoughts by the middle of it.

"A brain tumor. They diagnosed it too late. He only spend a day or so in the hospital before he passed." He finally managed to pull out a long necklace, made with sting, beads, bones and feathers. Immediately, I recognized it to be my father's lucky charm. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Of course I have. That motel over there looks like a nice place to spend a night." I pointed at the falling-into-pieces motel by the other side of the road.

Tom rolled his eyes, which made it look like he was a dying fish. "You can stay in our house. I'm living in a residence hall, and mom's in the hospital with a major depression. She asked to see you."

I turned to face him, and I probably looked like Vasquez when she's pissed, because Tom gave a step back. "You can go tell her to…"

"Come on Mark, just give her a damn chance. She's been in a really bad state through these days, and she just wants to talk to you for a while." He was begging me, pushing the necklace towards me and making huge, puppy eyes. "You know it's what dad would have wanted."

"I'll think about it." I pulled the necklace out of his chubby hands and put it around my neck, where it dangled in the slight breeze of the afternoon.

"Do you have any money to use?"

"The USCM pays me." It wasn't a lie. They had to pay me, after all, I was threatening my life to protect some colonist, even if they didn't seem to be much happy about it.

"Here." He pulled out a 500$ bill out of his wallet, handing it over to me, with that worried, big brother look that annoyed me so damn much.

"Why the hell do you carry a 500 bucks bill in your wallet?" he was asking to be robbed, but he had always looked like an easy target, anyway.

"Businesses." He shrugged, checking his watch and saying his 'goodbye', before he took off.

I sighed, then remembered about Vasquez and took a look at the scribbled address on my palm. She happened to live on the opposite side of the city. So, with a sigh, and gripping a bone that hung from the string, I started my way up the street.


	13. Chapter 13

**Drake's P.O.V**

* * *

><p>I could hear some noises coming from behind the door of Vasquez's apartment, which ceased as I gave it an audible knock.<p>

Vasquez hurried to open the door, with a rather bored look "Finally! Couldn't you have just gotten a cab?" she was grumpy, like usually, but her expression softened as she took a glance at my face. "Went that bad?"

She stepped aside to let me in as I shrugged.

Her half-sister was sitting on the couch, watching us silently, completely ignoring the cartoons on the plasma TV.

Vasquez practically dragged me to a room as soon as the door was close.

Turning to me as the bedroom door was closed, she gave me a curious glance. "What did he want?"

"Tell me that my father is dead and to give me this." I shook the necklace and took a look around the room.

The walls were red, and the wooden floor was covered with a fluffy, black carpet. There was a desk with some shelves over it, holding a radio, books and some disks. A reach-in closet was next to the excessively big bed, and there were no posters or pictures anywhere to be seen, only hand drawings and some poems in Spanish that were taped to the wall.

I sat on the comfy bed, scratching the back of my neck while trying to read a close poem.

"Are you okay?" she slowly kneeled by my side, with a worried expression on her face.

"I guess." A sigh left my lips as I said it.

It pained me to lie to her, but I was certain she could guess I was not as okay as I claimed to be. My father had been my favorite familiar, the only I actually liked, and I haven't even spoken to him in three years.

"Was that really all he wanted?" she had that sixth sense, 'cause she always knew when there was something bothering me, no matter how much I tried to hide it.

"He also told me that my mother's in the hospital with a depression and that she wants to talk to me. As if that's ever going to happen." I snorted, and then noticed her look of disapproval.

"Can't you just give her a chance?" her reply felt like a punch to the face.

"Why the hell should I?" I was just a little pissed. Why the hell would Vasquez suggest that? She, of all persons.

She blew out air, which usually meant that she was becoming annoyed. "I just think you should. You have no idea of what she wants to talk about."

"Neither do I care. Screw her; I've already taken enough bullshit from her." I crossed my arms firmly in front of my chest, and Vasquez did the same.

"Do whatever you want. I'm just trying to put something past your hard skull." She shrugged, unfolding her arms to play with a red ball she snatched from the bedside table.

A sigh left my lips as she began to throw it high and catching it again. "I'll think about it. Happy?"

She smirked, already knowing it was a 'yes'. "Yeah, I'm quite glad to hear that."

The ball was thrown at my chest, but I caught it easily and rolled it between my fingers, before letting myself fall further into the bed, while she got up, running a hand through her jet black hair.

"I'm going to take a bath." She announced as she bent down to unlace her boots.

"I'll go check on what she wants." I shrugged, letting the ball fall on the pillow and getting up.

She nodded, throwing the boots on a corner. "You're going to stay here for the night, right?"

I shrugged, feeling a bit tired for some reason. "Actually, my family's house is free, and I don't want to crash on your couch."

"You're not going to sleep on my couch, and you are not leaving me alone with my sister for a week. She's gotten so annoying lately." Her chocolate-brown eyes widened to complete that look she always gave me when she wanted something.

"Fine then. If you can't spend a whole week without seeing me, I'll do you that favor." I grinned as I opened the bedroom door, closing it quickly as she threw a notebook at me.


End file.
